


maybe your other men couldn't pass the test

by janie_tangerine



Series: the jaimebrienne spite countdown to season eight [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: (in all the bad ways tbqh), Brienne is the Best, Canon Universe, F/M, I Blame Tumblr, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Spitefic, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 10:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18118592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: In which people who have no business discussing it raise doubts about whether Brienne deservesbetterthan Jaime and she doesn't agree.





	maybe your other men couldn't pass the test

**Author's Note:**

> HI EVERYONE AND WELCOME TO MY NOW NOT-SO-SECRET-ANYMORE PRE-SEASON EIGHT SPITE COUNTDOWN.
> 
> So, tldr: October/November on tumblr was a wild time when it came to getting anon hate concerning shipping these two and I got way more than mildly pissed off, so I decided that it was time to harvest it and turn it into actual content for the ship because why the hell shouldn't I? So, I went back on my wank tag and other people's, I collected a month's worth of anti jaime/brienne anons sent from 2013 onwards (including some that people sent me this year and the previous ones but not for today's fic) with fairly idiotic arguments as to why they could never be together and I'm writing a fic for each of them that I'll post every day for a month until S8 premieres hopefully (if I can't keep up or there are delays I might skip a day or two but watch me post all thirty-one of them). Starting lightly today, and then it's going to become wilder with each passing day. Have fun! ;)
> 
> For day one, I chose one of my most hated anti jb arguments ie 'she deserves better than him/she's too good for him', which we can see already expressed in this amazing anon from the year of the lord 2015 even if it's not sure as hell the first time I heard it:
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Not that I haven't heard it three days ago as well, so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. Have fun and see you tomorrow with more imaginative hot takes ;)
> 
> Also: the title is from Bruce Springsteen, I own zilch except for the spite and I'll saunter back downwards because I'm halfway already done and I have to write another fifteen fics. Cheers. ;)

She hears the first whispers about Jaime merely three days after Winterfell is taken.

Or maybe they started _before_ and she only missed them until now, but that’s not the point, she thinks.

The point is that she’s out in the yard, having just finished a bout of training with what young squires are around the castle and who need to learn _fast_ if the Long Night is approaching as Jon Snow and Stannis Baratheon are _very_ keen on pointing out, and she hears someone passing by whisper something about how they _didn’t like that Lannister was in between them, and could he really have turned his cloak_?

Brienne feels the weight of Oathkeeper at her hip.

 _Yes,_ she wants to say, _he did it to the point that he came with me to free your liege lady even if I lied to him and to the point that he gave me a sword made of your former liege lord’s steel for that job, and to the point where instead of going back to King’s Landing he agreed to help her bring the Vale army here, and without it neither Stannis nor Jon Snow would have won that battle_.

But she knows it’s useless, and so she says nothing and goes back to her room, where she’s pretty sure Jaime will be waiting, or he said he would be since _no one particularly likes to see me around and I need you to make sure they don’t try to take my head off_.

Brienne tries to _not_ blush at the thought that he supposedly _needs her_ to make sure he’ll stay alive, even if… hasn’t she tried to do just that since they met? And hasn’t she killed what was left of the woman they both swore a vow to because she couldn’t bear to see him dead?

She shakes her head and goes upstairs. People can whisper how much they want. It doesn’t change the facts now, does it?

——

Except that after then, she hears it way, way more often.

It’s all about how much no one trusts the Kingslayer in their camp or how much they can buy his supposed lies about turning his cloak, or about how he and her seem to be too close (if only they _knew_ how much), or about how they shouldn’t keep him around without a trial regardless of how much Sansa Stark guarantees for him.

She shouldn’t care. Words are wind, after all.

But then she thinks, _he’s had to hear this for half of his life_.

Suddenly, she thinks she gets way, _way_ more why he hated being called _Kingslayer_ that much.

She hasn’t called him like that for a very, very long time.

She still feels sorry she ever did, but she couldn’t have known. And still —

 _How do you live half of your life hearing that_ without _turning into a bitter, cold person_? She doesn’t know, but she’s not surprised that he had, not now that she knows the entire story and not now that she’s seen the person he _can_ be and the person he wants to be.

She still does nothing — he told her that he’s heard that drivel for years and he’s adjusted to it, and the last thing he wants is giving them more reasons to distrust him. And that makes sense, so she pretends she doesn’t hear and goes on with her life, same as Jaime does.

But she hears. She does. And hearing all of that — mistaken whispering about someone who’s way, _way_ better than most of the people in this camp doesn’t do anything for her mood.

If only, it only takes one of those people saying that they should just ship him back to King’s Landing so Cersei Lannister won’t go after them to make her blood feel like it’s boiling.

Then again, she’d most likely incapacitate any of those people if they only tried to get near her room (where he’s always slept since they came here), so she doesn’t think it’s a danger, never mind that they’d never dare go against direct orders from both Jon, Stannis and their own liege lady.

They probably think she can’t hear them.

But she _can_ , and she _does_.

——

Nothing changes until a couple of weeks later when someone runs into the two of them kissing inside the armory.

She had figured they couldn’t keep it hidden forever even if they both had agreed it was for the best that people didn’t know, so she figures that she’ll just glare anyone who says anything into not sharing their opinion on the matter.

People start sharing their opinion.

It’s nothing she cares to hear about, so she sets on ignoring what whispers she hears —

Except that she had expected most of them to be japes at _her_ expanse.

When she hears someone muttering, _how does someone so honorable seem to find something in_ him _of all people_ , she almost turns around and asks them what in the Seven Hells is wrong with them and how they can’t see that _he actually has honor_ , but she doesn’t and moves on.

Still, it’s weird.

 _Really_? That is what they’re concerned about?

 _Well, I suppose that at least no one around here thinks I’m a jape. It could be worse_.

——

Thing is: it goes on. And of course she hears enough about her looks and how ugly she is and how they look odd together and how she’s taller and broader than he is, but it’s not _most_ of it.

It’s all, _but if she’s such a good knight what does she see in him_ , and _but is it because he’s the only one who’ll have her and he’s not going to find anyone else desperate enough_ and such things. And — it’s weird how other than the usual drivel about her looks, the issue seems to be about how _she_ , such an honorable person, would want to be with such a horribly dishonorable man.

It shows that they have no idea of what they’re talking about, of course, but —

It’s just, strange. She’s not really sure of what’s going on, but she chooses to ignore it and move on with her life. They have to get ready to fight an army of undead men, she doesn’t have time to waste with people judging what happens beyond her room’s door, and if they don’t even bother _talking_ to Jaime to find out what she sees in him, their problem.

——

She hears that nonsense whispering for another week before one of Stannis’s knights from the Stormlands drops down next to her while breaking their fasts and opens his mouth.

“My lady,” he says, “I mean no disrespect, but I was wondering why would you waste your time with an oathbreaker when you could have a lot better than that?”

“… I beg your pardon?” She replies.

“You’re obviously a great knight and you knocked all of us into the dust since we settled here, you are still young and he has nothing to his name other than being the _Kingslayer_. Why would you waste time with him when you could have —”

“Ser,” she interrupts, “I don’t even know your _name_ so I don’t know why you’re presuming you can just walk up to me and lecture me about my choices, but if you bothered talking to _Ser Jaime_ you would see that he’s hardly someone I’m _wasting my time with_. Now I would like to finish breaking my fast in peace, thank you.”

The man stands, having the grace to look chastised.

Jaime, who had been sitting next to her and had been thoroughly ignored, looks a shade paler than usual.

Brienne _doesn’t_ like this at all.

——

“You know,” he tells her later that night as they undress, “he — wasn’t completely wrong.”

“Who,” she asks, “that knight from this morning whose name I don’t even know?”

“Put it like _that_ , fine,” he shrugs, “but still. You know you could do a lot better than —”

“Jaime Lannister,” she cuts him, “I _thought_ I was ready to die for Renly Baratheon and when I actually _could_ do it, I did not and ran with Lady Catelyn. I didn’t _know_ I was ready to die for you and if Pod and Ser Hyle hadn’t been with me, I’d most likely be dead right now. Regardless of how much _better_ I could do — and that’s not even the point — I don’t particularly _want_ to, so how about this conversation ends here?”

He looks at her for a moment, his eyes going wide as if he hadn’t expected her to say it, but then something in his stare goes soft in a way that she hasn’t seen him spare anyone else yet, and shakes his head before sitting down next to her. “All right,” he says, “we do have more important things to worry about now, don’t we?”

 _That_ , they certainly do, she decides, and she doesn’t think about that mountain of horseshit any further.

——

The morning after, she has the displeasure of noticing that none other than Ser Edmund Ambrose is around the premises. She wonder how is he here, then she figures that he must have ended up with Stannis’s army after Renly died or something along those lines. She resolutely ignores him, but the only free spots are in the table next to his and so she has to sit down close enough to hear them talking.

Ser Edmund, apparently, doesn’t think that she remembers his little wager nor the time she beat him at Bitterbridge, because he smiles at her in greeting. She barely nods, acknowledging his existence, and goes back to worry about her porridge. Jaime joins her a minute later, balancing both spoon and bowl in one hand — he didn’t wear his golden one because they woke up later than usual and he said he’d worry about it later. Ser Edmund and his companions stare at him for a long moment, then go back to whispering in between themselves. She can feel Jaime getting tense next to her and she wishes he _wouldn’t_ — if people think less of him because of the hand, who cares.

That is, until they stop whispering.

“— it’s such a pity that she’d waste time on him,” one of the Ser Edmund’s companions says.

“Indeed,” another says. “Such an honorable and good knight, and she’s with _him_? He won’t even have a title when this war is over, he’s probably with her figuring he’d gain one. He even calls her _wench,_ did you hear it?”

 _How dare they_ — she’s about to stand up and tell them to stop talking, but Jaime’s left hand grasps at her knee under the table and gives it a squeeze. He shakes his head, but he also looks like they just punched him in the gut.

She’s thinking she should just ignore him.

But then —

“You’re right,” Ser Edmund agrees. “Such a woman deserves way better than the bloody Kingslayer.”

Before Jaime can tell her to ignore it, she shrugs his hand off and turns towards the whole lot of them.

“ _Excuse me_?” She asks, loud enough that half of the hall hears and people stop eating.

“Brienne —” Jaime starts, but she shakes her head.

“No,” she says, “I really would like Ser Edmund to elaborate on what it is that I deserve or not.”

Ser Edmund has the grace to look somehow embarrassed.

“My lady,” he starts, “I meant no harm. But it’s just — someone of your status, who’s a Stark sworn sword, who is obviously — honorable and reliable, could do way better than _him_. No offense —”

“Actually, _yes_ ,” she interrupts him, “that was _offense_ , Ser Edmund. And tell me, _who_ it is that could do way better than him? Ser Ben Bushy? _You_? I won’t speak for Ser Hyle since we have, well, _reconciled_ , but _you_? I remember specifically seeking you out to make you repent of that time you brought me _flowers_ and rode with me because you were hoping to win that wager on my maidenhood, or have you forgotten _that_?”

Ser Edmund wisely stops talking, if anything because her voice got a _lot_ higher now and she’s pretty sure the entire hall is hearing her.

And given how surprised all the others next to him are looking… gods, what did they expect? That she’d listen to them?

She could stop talking now.

Thing is: she doesn’t want to. For once, she _really_ doesn’t want to. She might as well tell them the entire truth.

“Also, what does it even mean that I _deserve_ better, coming from someone who once thought I deserved to lose my maidenhood for a bloody _wager_ because I was just a girl trying to play at swords but now that you saw that I’m not a jape you’re suddenly singing hymns to my honor and my goodness and how great of a knight I am? _You_ , ser Edmund, and everyone else in that camp who was in on that wager lied to me for weeks, and kept on saying sweet words all over, but you _never_ actually did anything _for_ me now, did you? No, you bloody didn’t. Meanwhile, _he_ never called me anything but ugly or dull when we met, but when people threatened to rape me while we were on the road together, he actually saved me from it and they kicked him in that stump in return. And when I was risking to get mauled by a bear in Harrenhaal, he came back and jumped into the damned pit to save my life regardless of how many nice _words_ he didn’t have for me before. Oh, and he actually thought I wasn’t a jape enough to send me off to look for Lady Sansa _with a Valyrian sword made of her father’s steel_ , rather than giving me bloody flowers. And he saved my life both times _without_ the hand, and if you bothered asking him _why_ he killed Aerys Targaryen you’d learn he’s way more honorable than you think he is. But other than that, _I_ think I know what I want and I don’t _deserve_ better than the only man I ever ran into who only ever was sincere with me and put his life on the line for mine when we weren’t even supposed to _like_ each other rather than giving me reasons to fight him, so how about you stop assuming what _you_ think I deserve? And given that every other betrothed I ever had only cared for my island and not for _me_ , I think I shall take my chances on him if he really is after my title. Surely when I lost my maidenhead, we didn’t have the lights turned down. _Thank you_ ,” she finishes, and moves back to giving them the shoulders.

No one tries to say anything as he goes back to eating her food. Soon, people go back to their interrupted conversation, but no one says a word from Ser Edmund’s table.

“Brienne?” Jaime whispers later, when no one is paying attention to them anymore.

“Don’t try to say that I deserve better than you,” she whispers back. “Or any nonsense of the kind. Regardless of whether it’s true or not — you know I’ve _wanted_ you since Harrenhaal, at least. And I’m quite happy with having gotten what I actually _wanted_ rather than settled with someone who doesn’t care about me either way. Clear?”

She meets his eyes, figuring that he’s going to lighten the situation somehow, and honestly, she was hoping for it. Instead he looks like he’s about to cry or something she had equally _not_ expected, his left hand slowly grasping hers.

“I couldn’t give a single fuck about your title,” he blurts, but it doesn’t come off as smooth as he’d have probably liked. “I hope you know that.”

“Good,” she says, “because I couldn’t give a single fuck about whatever it is you _lack_ according to all these very honorable people. Do you actually think I ever thought I’d ever have anything I _wanted_ other than maybe a glorious death in battle?”

“That would be a horrible waste,” he grins back, even if it’s not steady. “But for what it’s worth, I absolutely _don’t_ regret jumping into that bear pit. And I’ll forever be thankful that Hunt and Payne were with you.”

She gets what he’s implying, and honestly, she’d take _that_ over any fake nicety she’s heard at Renly’s camp.

“Me, too,” she whispers back, and if she decides that she can’t care less about what others think and kisses him right in the middle of the dining hall, let other people see and stop worrying about who deserves whom, when it comes to the two of them. It’s not anyone’s business but _theirs_ , after all.

 

 

End.


End file.
